Improvisers are the worst people, ever.

Improvisers, as rule, are the worst sort of people you'll ever have the misfortune of coming across. I've spent a lifetime in their company. I know precisely what I am speaking of.

They lack discipline.
They admire snarkiness and cruelty.
They don't have conversations. They do bits.
They don't listen. They wait for you to stop talking, so that they can do a monologue for you.
They also never have money for cab fare or bar tabs.
And never, never, never, leave your girlfriend alone at a table with an improviser. When you return from the bathroom, you'll find the improviser staring down her dress as he drinks your beer!

In the stratosphere of the performing arts, Improvisers are below technicians, jugglers, quick-change artists, marionette puppeteers, plate-spinners, and the people who make interesting things by folding tiny bits of paper. All of those performers must do some sort of preparation or education to develop some level of proficiency. Improvisers walk in off the street, stinking of cheap beer and cigarettes, wearing the t-shirt that they sweated through the night before, blue-jeans sliding off their chunky, white asses and expect the paying audience to listen to their 5 minute long monologue about how awkward they feel around girls.

These are people who can't be bothered to wear costumes.
The use of props is above them.
No matter the pedigree of the scripted word, they can't be bothered to learn an eloquent speech, when any two-bit dancing monkey with the inclination can take the stage and recite his favorite Simpsons quotes for twenty minutes.

They can't handle the complexities of navigating a stage with scenery. Have you ever seen what they do with the two chairs that you give them? They throw them. Hump them. Slide them around. Break them. And hump them again for good measure. If an improviser comes to your house, cover the couch with plastic.

They can't dance competently.
They can't sing adequately.
They can't act subtly.
They can't play any sort of instrument.
They can't perform convincing stage combat.
They can't use onstage makeup.
They can't recite poetry.
They can't navigate Shakespearean prose.

Ask them to "find their light" and they begin searching their jacket pockets for their cigarette lighter!

These people are smug bastards, all of them. They smile at you as if they've got something figured out that you don't. And that thing is that audiences will pay to watch any level of onstage incompetence and come back, the next time their friends pressure them into it. People will pay to watch the most pointless exercises in incoherence, if given half a reason to.

Everything that they do onstage is a lie. They drive cars that aren't there. Drink beers that don't exist. And visit locations that they themselves have never been to and can't imagine. Not every Castle has a Grandfather Clock and a Suit of Armor in it!

Every improvised show begins with a lie. A suggestion is taken and then promptly ignored for twenty minutes. They begin by saying, "This show will be about your topic!" and then do anything and everything but deal with that one topic. It's the improvisers way of beginning each show with a demonstration of how un-funny the audience is and how moderately more funny the performers are. And to prove that nothing that they say, can be trusted.

I need not mention that nearly every one of them is a veritable petri dish for venereal diseases, which they spread amongst themselves like a Roman Orgy.

Liars.
Cheats.
Thieves.
Charlatans.
Mountebanks.
Fabulists.
Scoundrels.
Wastrels.
And
Perjurers!

Their trade in cloth is the whole cut lie.
Their lack of training or proficiency in any artform is a badge of pride.
Their past is a shady mix of bold inexperience and blatant manipulation of one of the most regressively produced theatrical forms since bear wrestling closed it's hallowed doors.

Don't talk to these people.
Don't watch their "shows".
And for God's sake, Don't sleep with them.
If they ask for a suggestion, suggest that they "get a job and do something productive with their lives."

Thank the Lord that most of them will be dead from syphilis within the next five years.

A Beacon of Honesty,
Mr.B